


An Acquired Taste

by TheFandomLesbian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, POA, Slow Burn, snupin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28143531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFandomLesbian/pseuds/TheFandomLesbian
Summary: Once again, Remus Lupin has managed to inconvenience Severus Snape. His old childhood bully has returned to Hogwarts, and at Dumbledore's whim, Severus must brew Wolfsbane to keep the beast under control. But life has not treated Remus kindly. Meanwhile, trials of their own are plaguing Severus, as he realizes the Dark Lord's return and a second war are brewing on the horizon. Thrust together as unlikely allies and tentative confidants, a relationship blooms between them.
Relationships: Remus Lupin/Severus Snape
Comments: 16
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

“Denounce useless guilt. Don’t make a cult of suffering. Live in the now (or at least the soon). Always do the things you fear the most; courage is an acquired taste, like caviar. Trust all joy.” -Erica Jong

…

The sourness of Spinner’s End was far beyond Severus Snape as he unpacked another box of what he had accumulated over the summer into his chambers. His cats mulled around, glad to have their freedom, as he set up his potions ingredients on the shelf. He put a repelling spell on them once they were settled so the cats wouldn’t interfere. Blowing a sigh from between his parted lips, he surveyed the room—meager, his possessions, but more home than the alternative. The cats mused their way around the room before taking up on the sofa, yawning and returning to their preferred method of existence—sleeping.  _ I wish I could sleep life away so easily, _ Severus thought darkly.  _ Or this term, at the very least. _

As he thought it, the fireplace flared to life in green. “Severus?” The headmaster’s face appeared in the coals. “Remus won’t be able to meet you before dinner. He is arriving from the Hogwarts Express. I’ve impressed upon him the importance of you getting his measurements—he’ll meet with you first thing tomorrow.”

The urge to curl his lip couldn’t be stifled. He needed another reminder of why this term already sucked bollocks. “That’s agreeable, Headmaster.” Nothing about it was agreeable. “Are you sure it’s wise to follow through with this hiring?” he dared to ask. “Have you considered the possibility that Sirius Black’s only surviving friend has managed to help him escape from Azkaban and now intends to help him onto campus?”

“I’ve considered it, Severus, yes—but I trust Remus wholeheartedly.”  _ You trusted Black, as well. _ Severus knew when to hold his tongue. This was one of those times. “I trust you will uphold your end of the bargain with Remus’s hiring?”

It wasn’t really a question, merely phrased as one. “Yes, Headmaster.” He had no choice but to agree with Dumbledore. He had voiced his concern more than once, and now, if things backfired, he would have no guilty conscience. Perhaps he would be fortunate—perhaps he would find Black and exact his revenge. Perhaps he would catch Lupin in the act. Oh, how he would revel in such a victory! Or, if nothing else, the dementors could have Black… Severus would like knowing he had suffered immensely. He abhorred having the dementors on Hogwarts grounds, but if they caught Black, he could handle the exchange.

“And—Severus, about Remus’s status: No one knows. No one can find out. It must stay under wraps.”

“I understand, Headmaster.” His lip curled farther downward, but he didn’t speak further. He had made a promise to Dumbledore, and he would not break it, regardless of how satisfying he would’ve found it. “Lupin’s secret is safe with me.”  _ I’ve been protecting his bloody secrets since I was fifteen. _

“Thank you. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Once Dumbledore’s face had wholly faded from the flames, Severus allowed himself to mumble, “Oh, go choke on a lemon drop.” He turned away from the fireplace and headed into the kitchen. Dinner in less than an hour—he had to bathe himself and change into more presentable clothing, and he had to feed the cats. From the way they pawed around his legs, they wanted their food sooner rather than later. Clicking his tongue, he summoned them to the kitchen. “Come, you cretins, the lot of you.” They filed into the room one at a time, and counted—one, two, three, four, five. He had started as a reluctant caretaker and gradually evolved into a doting servant. 

Each cat had a bowl bearing its name. Severus filled the bowls with the cat food he made, and he placed it in front of them. Each cat bowed their head into their respective bowl. A plump tortoiseshell wrapped around his leg and blinked up at him from behind her grizzled whiskers. Her green eyes flitted so lovingly from below. He bent over to scratch at her rump and under her chin. “There you go, Cleo, old girl. Off with you.” She gave a voiceless meow and headed to her bowl. 

He would have preferred to wait around all evening with the cats, watching them eat. But he knew better. Responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders.  _ No rest for the wicked. _ Shuffling out of the kitchen, he headed back to his room, prepared to arrive at dinner with more finesse than patience, which always suited him. 

…

With weary eyes, Severus seated himself in the Great Hall with Minerva on his right, an empty seat on his left. Of course Dumbledore had seated him beside Lupin—what else could he have expected? He had no time to dwell on the notion as the mouth to the Great Hall swung open wide, and students poured in, moving like a disorganized army. They poured like viscous honey from the jar. And along their edges, Severus spotted Lupin.

“That poor boy looks like he was rode hard and put up wet,” Minerva whispered; Severus almost wished he could laugh, but he couldn’t. Lupin was indeed a pitiable sight. Gone was the handsome sandy-haired teenager, and his replacement was an emaciated man with a gray complexion and tired, sunken eyes. His robes, threadbare and patched more than intact, hung from his scanty frame. As he walked, a lumbering sort of limp, his robes shuffled slightly to reveal his crumpled shoes, which appeared to have holes in them. 

It filled Severus with both pity and satisfaction. He inclined his head slightly in greeting as Lupin sat beside him. “Hello, Severus.” Even his voice was tired, world weary.

“Lupin.” He saw no need for an incredibly cordial greeting. 

Lupin, however, wanted to chat. “You look well.”

Severus loathed small talk. But with Minerva beside him, he didn’t dare say anything too incendiary; his life was much preferable with Minerva as his ally. “As do you.”

He didn’t look at Lupin directly. He refused to look too engaged with the conversation. But, out of the corner of his eye, he watched Lupin’s eyes crinkle at the corners. His dimples dashed upon his cheeks. In his green eyes, some humor glinted. “It’s kind of you to lie.” Severus held his tongue, hoping Lupin would leave it at that, but he kept talking. “I’ve seen better days, but I’ve seen worse as well. I’m grateful to be here.” There was an implicit gratitude in his words, something he could not express aloud in front of everyone else. 

Severus had nothing to say to that, so he didn’t reply, but green eyes lingered on the side of his face.  _ How am I to eat while a hungry dog watches? _ Severus thought with an internal sneer. The gaze lingered. After a minute of tolerating it, his thin patience ran short. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to gawp? It’s unbecoming.”

Lupin flushed—Severus was shocked his tired, gray body had enough blood in it for such a response. He murmured an apology and hastily dropped his gaze. He didn’t speak again, nor did he lift his gaze from the floor until the first years trickled in after Hagrid, and the Sorting commenced. Holding his hands up for his best tepid golf clap, Severus made a note of each of his new snakes, though he recognized very few of the names.  _ More muggleborns and half-bloods this year. _ It was a positive mark that now, so long after the war, Slytherin house gained so many new students from mixed bloodlines. But it worried Severus. Keeping his older students and their prejudices at bay was difficult. 

The Sorting settled quickly, and Dumbledore stood before the school. As the school applauded and then fell silent, everyone regarded Dumbledore patiently. “Welcome!” crowed Dumbledore, and the candlelight reflected on his beard and his glasses. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast.” Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, “As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business.”

A dark glinting crossed Dumbledore’s face. He didn’t appreciate having the dementors on the grounds any more than anyone else did. “They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave the school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises, or even Invisibility Cloaks.”  _ Potter. _ Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors.” 

The students settled with the information, some fidgeting uncomfortably, making it rather clear that whatever had happened on the train had disturbed them.  _ I hadn’t heard of any such thing. _ Severus glanced at Lupin beside him.  _ He was on the train. _

“On a happier note,” Dumbledore continued, “I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.” The applause from the audience was lackluster, with Lupin looking rather embarrassed as he stood at the sound of his name. “As to our second new appointment,” Dumbledore continued as the lukewarm applause for Professor Lupin died away. “Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties.”

_ That is a nightmare waiting to happen. _ Severus had a great deal of respect for Hagrid, but he also had no doubt that this was going to go south fast. Hagrid was not competent to teach children.  _ He assigned them a biting book. _

“They didn’t sound very excited about my presence,” Lupin said, somewhat abashed, and the shame in his voice caused Severus to give him a side eye. Lupin became engrossed in his food. 

_ From the looks of it, he hasn’t had such a meal since he graduated.  _ Severus had nothing snide to say on the matter. “Their previous professors were a stuttering fool and a blathering idiot. I’m sure they’ve come to expect very little from their Defense Against the Dark Arts classes.” Severus knew it to be a fact, actually.

“Is that so?” Lupin asked, and his eyes brightened a bit. Severus regretted interacting with him. “I suppose I shan’t be such a disappointment, then… That’s a small comfort.” Severus sipped his pumpkin juice, hoping it would settle his stomach from the nerves and disgust of this forced conversation. “Pray tell, what do you think I should teach them?”

Severus thanked whatever gods there were for his ability to control his face, because he truly wanted to choke in shock and scoff in derision and gape in disbelief, and he could do none of those things. “Term starts  _ tomorrow, _ and you don’t have a lesson plan?” He fought to curb the incredulity from his voice. 

Lupin, to his credit, had the good sense to lose his Gryffindor pride, and he gave a sheepish look. “Well… I don’t have any classes tomorrow, just the next day. I didn’t have my own copy of the textbook, you see, so I’ll need to borrow one from the library.”

Eye twitching, Severus fought to keep himself from being too volatile. He had a number of things to say, but none of them were kind, and with Minerva at his side, he prioritized niceties. Lupin faced a whole term with only one day to construct a lesson plan? What a bloody moron. Did he expect his Gryffindor brashness to save him now? Lupin was going to make a fool of himself. Severus wished he would have the opportunity to watch. “Given the current state of affairs, I don’t think teaching the older students about dementors would be an error.”  _ Why am I helping him? _ It cost him nothing to remain silent. He already was helping Lupin far more than he cared to—though, he supposed, that had less to do with Lupin and more to do with the safety of the school as a whole. A full-fledged werewolf roaming the corridors would put them all in danger. 

Lupin, too, donned a look of surprise at Severus’s suggestion. He considered, and then he blinked, the astonishment not quite fading from his expression. “That may be best…” He averted his eyes, looking doubtful. “They raided the Hogwarts Express. The children were terrified. Harry Potter fainted.”

_ Merlin’s beard. _ Severus rolled his eyes. “Don’t be fooled by that boy’s antics. He’s a pompous brat.” Minerva was watching. He quieted himself before he said anything more caustic. “He pulled your leg to get some attention.”

“I don’t think so. He was white as a sheet.” Lupin folded his napkin and fiddled with it. His hands were lined with faint white scars. “Truth be told, I didn’t like how close they got, the dementors. Less than two meters away—from a couple of children. What does the Ministry think, that some student is going to smuggle Sirius Black into the school in the pocket of his robes? Anyone is frightened that close to a dementor, and they have every right to be.” 

There was a strange glint in Lupin’s eye as he said that dreaded name. Severus peered at him, not looking directly at his face to keep from betraying his interest. Was there something there? He would have to keep an eye on him. “It is troubling they raided the train. But Dumbledore has been assured they won’t enter the grounds.”

“You don’t mean to say you’re not concerned?”

Severus bit back a sigh. “Whether or not I’m concerned has no bearing on the dementors’ presence here. How the students handle the presence of a dementor would be  _ your _ area of expertise, not mine.” He scowled as he said the words. 

Lupin fidgeted in his chair, wearing an uncomfortable expression on his face, something between a grimace and a smile but painfully deep set among his wrinkles. “I feel like the expert of nothing,” he admitted. His discomfort made Severus’s attempts at sparring far less satisfactory—he felt less like a man who had grown up prepared to face the wolf and more like a petulant child walloping a misbehaving puppy. Severus refused to allow himself to feel pity for this man, one of his childhood tormentors, but he also couldn’t sit atop a mountain and kick a bleeding dog.  _ That was not a kindness he offered me, _ Severus reminded himself. He was not in the habit of taking the high road; he had faced far too much in his life to concern himself with being on the moral high ground. But, justice be damned, karma had done its work. Severus had nothing he could say which would bring this man more hurt than poverty and stigma had already done. “I thought, maybe—I worked as an exterminator a few times. I can start with the pests I know, the grindylows, boggarts, doxies, hinkypunks—”

“I’ve no wish to hear of your extensive work history.” Severus continued to eat reluctantly. Lupin’s plate continued to refill itself each time he inhaled it.  _ He’s going to make himself ill. _ “What you teach is none of my business, as much as I am thrilled to hear what a buffoon you intend to make of yourself.” 

Lupin seemed to deflate. Severus felt like he had thrust a pin into the latex of a balloon. But, in spite of the emptiness in his green-brown eyes, he gave a grim, sad smile. “Of course, Severus. I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to babble.”

It seemed Lupin was refusing to allow himself to rise to the challenge. Why would he risk it? Severus had all the power. He thought he had wanted this. It wasn’t as satisfying as he had imagined. He almost felt sorry—almost. Not quite. “Whatever you manage, I’m sure it will still be marginally more competent than anything else the students have experienced of late.”

Oh, being positive for Lupin grated against his very being. It left him feeling irritated and rashy. But the faintest of twinkles returned to Lupin’s eye. “I do hope you’re right…” Students were beginning to rise and head into their dormitories. “I suppose I ought to stop by the library before it becomes too late for Madam Pince to let me in.”

Severus snorted. “Professors have open access to the library,” he reminded Lupin in his driest, longest drawl. 

Lupin held his gaze. A nervous laugh fluttered from him. “Yes… Yes, of course. Filch can’t drag me down to his office now.” He wrung his hands and surveyed the head table, as if to ask who may have overheard, but many of the other professors had excused themselves, and Minerva was just starting to stand. She bid them goodnight. “Goodnight, Professor McGonagall.” She gave him a sympathetic look as she headed away from the table. Lupin cringed at himself. “I suppose I ought not call her that anymore.” He coughed awkwardly into his fist. “How did you get used to it? I mean… What did it take for you to, uh, to _ not _ feel about four centimeters tall every time somebody looks at you?” 

_ Depends who’s looking.  _ Dumbledore still had the ability to make him feel eleven again. But the headmaster was within earshot, and Severus would never have betrayed such sensitive information to Lupin, anyway. He valued his privacy far too much to let a busybody like Lupin into his business. When he had entered this job, he started as Head of House, and he had deep shoes to fill and a bunch of unruly, prejudiced students to control—students who had been his peers just years before. He had to command respect or risk total tyranny. But twenty-year-old Severus who had reluctantly joined the staff of Hogwarts had more responsibility and less life experience than Lupin, who sat beside him now. He had no desire to draw upon his own experiences for anything to benefit Lupin. “Time,” he drawled vaguely. “It took time.” It had taken so much more than that, but he had no intention of making Lupin privy to all of the horrors of his life. 

Green eyes dropped to the floor. “Guess I’ve got plenty of that, then.” He smiled sadly as he pushed back from the table. “Dumbledore said you need to see me tomorrow morning.” 

Severus also pushed back from the table. He wanted nothing more than a mug of hot chocolate, a book in his hand, and a cat in his lap to polish off the night. “Yes. I need to take some measurements.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin and left everything in a neat pile for the house elves to take when they arrived to clean things up for the night.  _ I’ve no desire to inadvertently poison you, _ he wanted to say, but he didn’t, partly because someone could overhear and partly because some tiny, evil part of him  _ did  _ secretly wish to poison Lupin, or at the very least slip a laxative into his Wolfsbane. He would never, mostly because he knew it would render the Wolfsbane useless, but also because Lupin looked so pathetic and malnourished that Severus feared one or two bad bouts of diarrhea could leave him dehydrated near death. But the idea of it… Like the idea he had had for so long of eventually showing up the Marauders, this idea was satisfying just for him to think. 

“Right. I’ll meet you at seven?”

“That’s fair.”

Lupin stood, and he placed one large hand on Severus’s shoulder. The hand was bony—even his extremities showed the emaciation which had ravaged Lupin’s body over his impoverished years of life—but it spanned so far over Severus’s deltoid, and it was warm. Its heat bored through the layers of his robes and warmed him deeply, into his skin, into his blood, into his very bones. Severus blinked, opening his mouth to object, but Lupin read the expression upon his face. He quickly removed the offending limb from Severus’s person. “Thank you, Severus. For everything.”

Severus stood. He had nothing to say to Lupin for his gratitude.  _ I only act out of obligation. _ No, he was obligated to no one but Dumbledore. He owed Lupin nothing. Lupin owed him several things, mostly an apology. He would not gratify Lupin with an appropriate response. No  _ you’re welcome _ or  _ no problem _ ; he didn’t deserve such kindness. “Goodnight,” he said, firm in his dismissal. 

Lupin’s green eyes were soft and sad. “Goodnight, Severus.”

They parted ways at the table, and they walked in opposite directions. Severus kept his back stiff and his head up, but regardless of the stiffness of his posture, the warmth of Remus Lupin’s hand lingered on his shoulder. 


	2. Chapter 2

Morning arrived all too early for Severus. He lay sprawled on his abdomen, one arm wrapped around a cat, the other pushed up under his pillow. A cat rested there, as well, licking his hair and purring vigorously. One had tucked his paws up under himself, resting square in the center of Severus’s back. The other two rested at the foot of the bed, meowing their expectation for breakfast. He roused his tousled head and peered over at the elderly tortoiseshell who rested in the crook of his arm. “Cleo,” he greeted. His morning voice held a gravelly croak to it. “I do believe you’re the only member of this family to have any manners at all.” The cat resting on his back sneezed. Fomites spattered across the back of his neck. “Gross.” Severus shifted his back, wiggling his shoulders to dislodge the familiar weight of the cat where he had decided to sleep. “Get up, Sneezewort. Get up, if you want breakfast.” 

Sneezewort obediently hopped up, and Severus sighed as he pushed himself up from the bed. He shoveled his hands through his hair. “Let me take a shower, and we’ll have breakfast.” He had almost two hours before he had to prepare himself to meet with Lupin—truly, this arrangement had him seeing far too much of Lupin.  _ I’ll have an owl deliver the potions, perhaps? _ No, he couldn’t risk it. This was too dangerous to risk a bird accidentally dropping a vial and shattering it. He would have no way to remedy the error, and then they all would pay the price. 

No, unfortunately, this arrangement obligated him to spend both hours over the cauldron and hours in the presence of his tired old enemy. He loathed it. 

He rifled through his closet and pulled free his teaching robes. The cats pursued him into the bathroom as he brushed his teeth, and they used their numbers to form a line, ranks in an army, to admire him through the shower curtain while he bathed. One bold idiot jumped onto the edge of the tub, and he pranced about, just below the mist. “You’re an insolent fool, Gurdyroot. You’re going to fall.” And, surely as he said it, the black cat wagged his enthusiastic tail, and he lost his balance and toppled down into the bathtub. 

Severus jumped back, trying to stand clear as Gurdyroot floundered on the slick floor of the tub, claws flying and fur standing on end. He caught some traction and hurled himself into the shower curtain, flipping again. He hit the bathroom floor with an audible  _ thunk _ and bolted away from the other four cats, who were much more patient for his affection and their sustenance. “Bloody fool of a cat.” Severus finished quickly and clothed himself in his teaching robes, brushing hastily through his hair. He wrung it out in the tub and tied it back out of his eyes. “Come along, kittens. Time for breakfast.”

Mallowsweet was already on the kitchen counter, and Jewelweed ran ahead of him, darting between his legs. Mallowsweet lifted up a paw and extended it to catch on the sleeve of his robe. “Wait,” Severus implored, staring deep into her yellow-green eyes. She meowed. Severus rolled his eyes at her, and he gently collected her into his arms and dropped her onto the floor. Gurdyroot, sopping wet but no longer fearful from his shower adventure, jumped up to replace her. “Stop harassing me—do you want your eggs or don’t you?” With a wave of his hand, the coffee maker sizzled, and he put a pan on the stove. He cracked two eggs from the cupboard over the pan. When Gurdyroot threatened to tramp across the lit burner, Severus batted him down. “No! Hot!” He put a repellent charm on the countertops. “You bunch of feline fools.” Cleo wrapped around his leg. “Not you, Cleo, dear, you’re a darling, but the rest of them…” As he said it, Sneezewort and Mallowsweet charged out of the kitchen in a game of chase. “Bloody hell.” He scrambled the eggs as they cooked, portioning it as evenly as he could.

He assembled the bowls on the counter. “This is just a treat. Don’t get used to it.” He measured out their kibble and mixed a small bit of egg into each bowl. “The rest is for me.” Severus didn’t like eggs, but he also didn’t like appearing in the Great Hall for breakfast. He preferred the silence of his chambers (barring the purrs of his cats) to enjoy his coffee and a morning read before the hell of classes began. 

But this morning, hell deemed to start earlier than usual. With his back turned, the fireplace roared to life. “What on earth?” He turned to watch as Remus Lupin dumped out of the green flames and upon his floor. The cats swarmed him.  _ Bloody hell. _ Severus’s lip curled. What part of  _ seven _ hadn’t the idiot dog understood? Holding a bowl in one hand, he entered the living room. The cats formed a circle around Lupin. Sneezewort arched his back and growled ferociously. Jewelweed drew her lips back and hissed. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” Severus felt that, one day, he would scowl and it would not leave—just like the muggles said, it would get stuck that way. But the intrusion was infuriating. He didn’t even scold his cats. 

Lupin straightened himself up and dusted the powder off of his robes. He went to take a step forward, but Gurdyroot howled and lashed out at the hem of his pants. “Oh—Oh, dear.” he cleared his throat. His robes looked like he had gotten halfway through trying to transfigure them into something acceptable. He wore mismatched socks, and his hair stood on ends like it had never known the touch of a comb. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I thought I had plenty of time, but then I saw my watch… You look quite cross, Severus.” 

If Severus had not practiced his whole life toward measuring and frugally using his conservative reservoir of patience, he surely would have cursed Lupin out of his chambers. But he had made a promise to Dumbledore. So he grated his jaw and wondered if it was truly bad form to take a headache draught so early in the term. “I regret to inform you, Lupin, but you are not late. I believe the spell on your watch has worn off.”

Scrambling, Lupin glared at his watch. He flicked it once, twice, but it didn’t come to life. He laughed, a shaky thing filled with anxiety. “I—I suppose you’re right. What time is it?” Cleo weaved her way through the clowder and rubbed up against Lupin’s leg, purring. 

“It’s ten til six.”

His eyes widened. “Oh—Oh. I’m not late.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry—it seems I’m doomed to blunder everything so far. Would you prefer me to come back?” He shuffled his feet, but Sneezewort pounced on his wrinkled, torn shoe and sank his teeth and claws into it. “Er, one of your cats is attacking me.”

“I can see.” Severus shooed the cats except Cleo, who stretched herself up and pawed at Lupin’s hand. Lupin flinched and held his hands up out of reach, like he feared she would bite anything exposed. “I will be considerably more civil once I’ve had my coffee, but seeing as you’ve already managed to interrupt my morning…” Lupin mumbled an apology. Severus bent over and picked up Sneezewort by the scruff of his neck. The cat spat as he caught sight of Lupin and thrashed. Severus folded him tight against his chest to immobilize him. “Shoo. Psst psst psst.” The cats scattered. “Come.” Sneezewort grumbled a few unhappy notes, and Jewelweed and Gurdyroot kept their reproachful stares fixed upon the werewolf. 

Lupin followed with an apprehensive glance up at Severus. He held a book folded under his arms. Severus filled the last of their kibble bowls and arranged them in a line, putting Sneezewort on the floor. Each cat approached the bowl with their name printed on it. “Are those their names? On the bowls?”

“Yes.”

“Strange names… Are they all potions ingredients?”

Severus bit back a sigh. He had a million ideas of how to better spend his morning than socializing with Remus Lupin. He reached for his mug of steaming black coffee. “Yes.” He took a long, deep swig from the coffee mug and gulped hastily, praying for the caffeine to infuse into his bloodstream before the bitterness curdled his tongue. 

“How’d you come up with those? I mean, why those names? Sneezewort?”

“He sneezes a lot.” Severus fought to keep from grinding his teeth together.

Lupin leaned over to watch them eat. Gurdyroot made eye contact with him and hissed ferociously. Lupin stood up straight and took a step back. “They aren’t incredibly fond of strangers, are they?”

Severus curled his lip. “They  _ detest _ dogs.” It was true; he once had helped Hagrid separate Sneezewort and Mallowsweet from poor, timid Fang’s ears. He feared the dog still bore scars from the encounter, and he definitely had gained a healthy fear of cats. 

Cleo meowed and pawed at Lupin’s leg. Lupin’s face fell at Severus’s sharp words, but as Cleo pawed up at him again, he offered a hand, and she nuzzled warmly up against it. “This one doesn’t seem to mind me as much.” He bent over and stroked her back. She purred and arched into his touch. “What’s this one’s name?”

“Cleo.” Severus stared down at her food bowl on the floor, which she hadn’t touched in favor of saying hello to Lupin. 

“That’s not a plant name.”

“I didn’t name her.”

Cleo stood on her hind legs. Lupin picked her up like a small child under the arms. She rubbed her black-and-orange face against his with a croaking purr. Lupin grinned into her fur. “Well, who did?” Severus took another long, slow sip of his coffee. Cleo bonked her head against Lupin’s face hard, and Lupin laughed. His green eyes twinkled with merriment. He paid no heed to Severus’s silence. As his large fingers curled through her fur, he ruffled up against her collar. “She’s the only one wearing a collar—and she’s the only one who looks different. How do you tell all the black ones apart?”

Severus supposed this warranted a dignified response. “I know them. They’re all different to me.” He sipped his coffee. “She came with the collar, too.”

Fiddling with the collar, Lupin found the tag. Severus almost took a step to stop him, but instead he took another swallow of his hot coffee, watching as Lupin turned the faded metal in his hand. “Severus, this isn’t even your information. It’s…” He drifted off and lifted his gaze back to Severus’s, his brows furrowed. “It’s the Potters’.” Severus arched an eyebrow to him in return, as if to ask what Lupin was implying. “Surely she’s not—she can’t be—”

“She is.” Cleo butted her face against her Lupin’s. She chirped a happy, tiny sound at him. “And it seems she remembers you.” He said the last bit with a touch of bitterness, though nothing was certain; Cleo was always friendly and loving, unlike the rest of his cats—Lily’s influence, he supposed. 

As she gave a gentle nibble onto Lupin’s hand, he freed her, and she hopped down out of his arms and approached her food bowl, picking all of the egg bits out of her kibbles first. “I can’t believe… I hadn’t even thought of her.”

“No one did.” Cleo had been an afterthought, presumed a casualty. 

“How did you get her? Where did you find her?”

It would have been so easy to lie—so easy, in fact, that Severus had the lie prepared with full certainty. Hagrid had discovered her, but he recognized that Lily’s dreaded living relative would want nothing to do with her, so he brought her back to Hogwarts and asked Severus to care for her. It was perfectly believable. But it wasn’t the truth, and it wasn’t what decided to leave his tongue. “I went after Dumbledore had me released. To the wreckage.” He averted his eyes. “She was in the crib. Keeping warm in the blankets.” He watched as she took a few more mouthfuls of her breakfast, and then she wrapped around his leg, peering up at him with her gorgeous, wide eyes. “I brought her back with me.”

“That was several days, wasn’t it?” Severus’s gaze darted up to Lupin. “She must’ve been hungry… thirsty. Cold.” Lupin had gentle eyes, a tender look within them. “I’m glad you took her. She’ll never be so afraid again.”  _ Never is a strong word. _ Severus held his tongue. Dumbledore believed the Dark Lord would return again, but he had no business disclosing anything to Lupin. “Does Harry know?”

Severus snorted derisively, and as soon as that tender moment had come, it passed. “That self-righteous brat knows nothing of her, and he never will.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little unfair? That’s part of his family.”

“She’s part of my family now,” Severus snapped. 

“You have five of them.”

“You have five fingers. How would you like me to cut one off? Then I’ll be sure to rehome it to a pompous thirteen year old who will forget to feed it.” As Severus’s hostility rose, the four black cats circled Lupin with arched backs and fur standing on end. “Potter has no business knowing about my personal life. I know nothing about his. I prefer it that way.” 

Lupin shuffled backward, but his attempt to distance himself from the cats failed as Sneezewort howled and launched himself at Lupin’s shoe again. “You truly detest him, don’t you?” Severus tilted his head. “Would you call off your small army if I promise not to say anything to him about the bloody cat?”

“I do enjoy seeing a hoard of black cats backing you into a corner.” Severus waved his hand, shooing the cats, but Sneezewort again refused to come quietly. “You great, fearsome furball.” He picked up the angry cat and took him back to the living room, setting him down upon the cold floor and letting him show himself out. “There. I’ve called off the army.” Cleo remained in the kitchen, finishing her breakfast, but Lupin didn’t fear her. He shuffled by.

“So, er, what exactly do you need from me?” He hesitated as he asked it, as if he didn’t want to broach the subject. He wrung his hands with uncertainty. 

“Just some brief diagnostics.” Severus summoned his potions journal. It flipped open to the page he desired. “How tall are you?” he asked frankly; he didn’t care to try to unfurl a tape measure for a question Lupin could answer himself.

“One hundred eighty nine centimeters.”

Severus filled it in on his parchment, and then he waved his wand to measure his weight; he no longer asked, knowing all too well that most people would lie to their own detriment. Still, the lowness of the number shocked him. He held his poker face as he etched the number onto the parchment, wondering if he needed to say something. He was no mediwizard or healer. Lupin’s health was none of his concern, beyond ensuring he didn’t become a raging beast once a month. The longer he thought, the deeper the wrinkle between Lupin’s sad eyes plunged, before he finally asked, “Is it that bad?” in a small voice.

_ Well, at least he’s not ignorant. _ “It’s not excellent, no.” Severus’s brows crinkled. “What have you been eating?”

Lupin shrugged. “Anything I could find that wouldn't kill me.” Severus arched an eyebrow, requesting elaboration. “I had to make rent. I was out of a job most of the time, so I sold things. But there wasn’t much left to eat with. I was thrifty—day old bread from the muggle shops, overripe fruit.”

_ Your entire diet was fruit on bread? _ Severus didn’t ask. He feared knowing the truth would make him pity Lupin, and he didn’t  _ want _ to pity Lupin. He was doing  _ better _ than his childhood bully. He had  _ won. _ But sitting before him was a painfully thin man whose hair had begun to gray prematurely, whose socks were hideously mismatched and whose robes were likely older than himself. It didn’t feel good. It wasn’t satisfying. It was sad, that a man as intelligent as Lupin had come into such a state. “Then we’ll have to measure this monthly to ensure the proportions are correct.”

“Will it make that much of a difference?”

“I don’t know.” Wide green eyes regarded him almost fearfully. “I’ve never made it wrong before. Would you prefer to find out otherwise? The chances of rampaging through the school or dying from poisoning are roughly the same.”

The green eyes crinkled at the corners. “I think I much prefer your way.”

Severus waved his wand again. “Your temperature is low.” He wrote down the numbers on the parchment.  _ Of course he had to be complicated. Of course he couldn’t be a regular, healthy wolf. _

Lupin’s eyes narrowed. “Is not. You wrote down thirty-six point six. That’s normal.” 

“That’s normal for a human. Yours should run considerably higher.” He surveyed Lupin again, only now realizing how many layers of clothes the man was wearing. Sure, they were in the dungeons, and the castle could be quite drafty, but Severus was comfortable in his typical clothing—and he would be the first to admit it could become unbearable down here in the winter. “Are you always cold?”

Fidgeting, Lupin avoided his gaze. He was ashamed, Severus realized. “It’s cold down here,” he argued, but it was a weak attempt at sparring with the data. “Isn’t it? It’s drafty.”

“Sure.” Severus pointed his wand at Cleo. Her temperature reflected back at them—thirty-nine. “Hers is normal, though.”

Lupin sighed. “I know I’m no picture of health, believe me. But it’s not an easy fix. Someone like me—I can’t even keep a mediwizard. They don’t accept my kind.”

Severus had sympathy for him. He had taken for granted everything he had here at Hogwarts—a paycheck larger than what he had dreamed of as a child, free meals during the term, access to house elves whenever he required them, the opinion of Poppy Pomfrey when he requested it. He was living with a silver spoon in his mouth compared to Lupin. “You don’t need to be healthy for my purposes. It merely complicates things.”

Lupin snorted weakly. “I take it you were hoping for an easy patient?”

“Please. Nothing about you has ever been easy for me.” Severus scrawled down more information in the margins of the journal. “Do you have any allergies I should know about?”

“Er… latex?” 

Severus fixed him under a withering look. “Yes, that sounds like something that will definitely go into this potion.”

Lupin shrugged. “It’d be my luck, wouldn’t it?”

_ He’s not wrong about that. _ Severus wrote it down just in case he needed the information in the future. “Is that your only allergy?” Lupin nodded. “Very well. That’s all I need from you.”

Straightening up, Lupin reached under his arm for his parchment and book. “Um, actually, Severus, I was hoping—I thought, maybe, you could clarify some of this for me?” His thick brows knitted together in a hopeful smile, almost a puppy dog look. Severus gave him another insufferable look, but at it, Lupin straightened his back. “Not that I—I mean, you aren’t obligated to me. You’re already helping me far more than anyone else, and I’m grateful. But—this  _ is _ something you know a lot about, and I  _ know _ if I ask McGonagall or Flitwick, they’ll see me as even more of a juvenile in a teacher’s shoes.”

“And you think I don’t see you that way?” 

Green eyes softened. He had wise eyes. The premature wrinkles made him look all too kind as he said, “I think there is nothing I can do at this point to make you loathe me  _ more, _ so I’m hardly jeopardizing my reputation with you.” Being read so easily caused Severus to set his jaw with a tight  _ click _ . Lupin bit his lower lip, and then he persevered, “I know I was unkind to you in the past, and I am truly sorry.”  _ Bollocks. _ Severus pinched his tongue between his teeth to keep from bitterly lashing out. “I’m in no place to ask your forgiveness. But I’ve realized how wrong my actions were. If it’s possible, I’d like us to be civil—I’d really like to be your friend.”

Severus curled his lip. Who did this buffoon think he was? Coming here after all these years and trying to suck up? For what? Severus would make his potion regardless—Dumbledore had seen to that. Clearly Lupin thought he had something to gain from befriending him. Severus wasn’t about to be used by one more person. “I don’t have friends.”

Sneezewort mulled over to them. He looked up at Severus with wide, frightened eyes—a familiar look to Severus, the look of,  _ Uh-oh, my tummy hurts. _ Severus held his hand out and summoned his feline tool kit, a series of potions that he kept brewed for them. His hand wrapped around the bottle of anti-nausea potion, but as he reached to uncork it, the sound rose up. An old muggle washing machine sound,  _ ker-chuck ker-chuck ker-chuck, _ and Sneezewort’s back arched with each violent contraction of his stomach. Severus and Lupin stared on in horror. Sneezewort’s tiny mouth popped open, his tongue flopping about all pink from between his teeth. A powerful stream of vomit poured from between his lips. With a quiet  _ splat, _ the partially-digested mixture of kibble and egg splattered across Lupin’s worn leather shoes. 

At the appearance of the putrid, frothy mixture of softened kibble, the other cats gathered around. Gurdyroot and Mallowsweeet watched the spectacle, but Jewelweed pushed her way forward with intent upon her face, licking her chops—she had no standards, and this was a second breakfast on full display for her. Biting the inside of his cheek, Severus vanished the mess before she could take a bite from it. 

“I can see why,” Lupin replied. Severus glanced back up at him, prepared to either reluctantly apologize or snap a snide reply together, but Lupin was smiling, like having a cat vomit on his tattered, ill-fitting shoes was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for him.

Severus sucked up some of the anti-nausea potion into a dropper, and then he picked up Sneezewort and placed three drops onto his tongue. The thrashing black limbs floundered, threatening to graze his skin, but he steered clear of the tiny blades with care. Once Sneezewort swallowed and sneezed into his face, Severus dropped him back onto his paws. Lupin arched an eyebrow at him. “He didn’t scratch you. That’s impressive.” Severus had nothing intelligent to say in response, so he waited with a deadpan expression for Lupin to continue. “I never would’ve thought of you as a cat person. This looks more like Minerva’s life to me—I would’ve expected all these guys to be your worst nightmare.” He shuffled to stand with his feet apart, but as he moved, Gurdyroot growled and swatted at the hem of his pants. “How’d he get all wet?”

“He jumped in the shower with me,” Severus admitted, and he wasn’t sure why he told Lupin the truth. Lupin’s eyes widened, like he waited for the punchline and was afraid to laugh too soon. “You look quite baffled.”

“I just wouldn’t want a bunch of cats watching me while I was scrubbing up, that’s all.” Severus had almost expected Lupin to make a comment about his hygiene, but either he was too kind to make such a remark or he missed the opportunity entirely—Severus assumed it was the former, given he usually thought of Lupin as being fairly intelligent. “I just prefer no witnesses while I’m showering. You seem quite private. It surprises me.”

“You’ll repeat it to no one.”

“Because people are in line to ask me everything I know about your shower habits. Maybe I’ll save myself some time and owl the  _ Daily Prophet. _ ” Lupin’s voice was warm with his teasing. Years ago, it hadn’t been; that was a tone Severus had only heard him use with the other Marauders. Being on the receiving end of it made his stomach flush with warmth and discomfort. “It will be time for your class to start soon. Would you please go over these lesson plans with me?” 

Lupin was too friendly. He was mowing down all of the walls Severus had planned on keeping in place between the two of them, and Severus didn’t know what to do about it. He wanted to put Lupin back in his place, remind him who was the dog and who was the master, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Lupin’s tired eyes still managed to hold a shred of brightness, which was something Severus’s bitter heart had spent years avoiding, and yet Lupin deliberately sought him out for some unfathomable reason. His demeanor warmed several layers of ice Severus had built up around his own heart. Something within Severus liked it—not that he would let himself admit it. No, he didn’t  _ like  _ it. He knew Lupin would be indebted to him already, and he quite liked having people in his debt. “I suppose.” He waved his hand, and the scarcely used dining table cleared itself of the layer of gratuitous dust which was only interrupted by pawprints. 

Green eyes danced like stars, and Lupin hastily sat at the table, spreading open his book and his parchment, like he expected Severus to change his mind and wanted to take the opportunity while it was before him. “Great! Okay, so, first.” He unfurled his parchment, which exhibited two very different kinds of handwriting—one neat and one nearly illegible. Lupin pointed his wand at the quill, and it levitated to dip itself in ink, smooth and even like any practiced wizard. But the moment it touched the parchment, it began to tremble uncontrollably. “How do you get it steady? This is illegible. They’ll never be able to read anything I write on the board. That’s not what my handwriting looks like.”

“I should hope not… Pamos Jam Pupen.” Severus said, squinting at the squiggles that hardly formed letters at all, barely recognizable as Lupin’s name at all. “What are you doing differently with the wand than you would do with your hand?”

Still clutching his wand in his right hand, Lupin took the trembling quill into his left and quickly scrawled his name—but even with the speed, this was much neater. “See? I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“You’re left-handed,” Severus deadpanned. 

Brow creasing, Lupin frowned. “Yes, but my right hand is my wand hand. My mum taught me to write, but my dad was a real Puritan about wand technique—”

“I don’t need your life story, Lupin.” Severus nodded to his left hand. “We’ve come past that time where everyone believes the left hand is cursed. Use it. You may well be better at everything, but I guarantee it will solve your handwriting problem.” 

Though his expression remained unconvinced, Lupin dropped the quill and passed his wand to his left hand. “This feels weird.” He held it strangely, getting used to the grip for a moment. Then he lifted it and pointed it at the quill. The quill levitated, dipped in the ink, and then touched the parchment. It scratched against the parchment, dipping again as necessary, holding steady, just as steady as the words Lupin had written by hand. His face glowed. “Won’t you look at that? You were right.”

“I think you will find I often am,” Severus purred. He cocked his head and arched an eyebrow at Lupin. At least that was an easy fix—he wished he had taken care of all of Lupin’s needs so he could end this torturous encounter. Though, this encounter had not been as tormented as he had expected. He would never admit it to Lupin or to Dumbledore, but he hated this company only slightly more than he hated the rest of the world’s company. “Now that I’ve improved your literacy, what else would you like? Should I also teach you how to tie a tie? Or perhaps we should start with your shoes?”

Lupin puffed a short laugh. “You’re funny, Severus.” He didn’t react toward the snide insults jeered at him. Severus wasn’t sure how to react to the unwarranted, unexpected compliment. But, fortunately, Lupin didn’t request anything more from him. He took his textbook, already marked with tabs and notes scrawled upon them. “Don’t worry, they’re charmed,” he said to Severus’s wide-eyed look. “I would never harm a library book. Madam Pince would feast upon my flesh and use my hide to bind more books.”

“You exaggerate. She’d merely display your skin on the wall as a warning to all who might have considered defacing a library book.”

“You sound like you speak from experience.” 

“Cats and open inkwells don’t mix. When she saw the pawprints, she tried to give me detention.”  _ Why am I telling him this?  _ He owed Lupin none of his anecdotes. He had offered his knowledge, not his humor—he was not one’s entertainer, especially not Lupin’s. Lupin had grown up with the two jokesters, and Severus had often been the butt of their jokes. He had no intention of taking up that role again for any reason. Besides, Lupin’s compliment meant nothing coming from someone who had once laughed at petulant bullies victimizing a much worse-off child. Lupin’s sense of humor was clearly lacking in quality. Severus wanted to get away from him as soon as he could. He tried to convince himself of that, anyway. And it was _ true. _ He needed some time to review his lesson plans and have a small breakfast before his first class began. He had to have everything prepared, lest some of the students decide to create a bomb from potions ingredients while he turned his back. 

“How long ago was this?” Lupin asked, and Severus realized he had gotten lost in thought.

As Lupin spoke, he rotated the open book toward Severus. “Two years ago,” Severus said absently, more concentrated on the text and the sticky notes in the margins. The notes were extensive. “I take it someone elected not to sleep last night,” he said flatly. “What is it you need? You’re competent—you know how to be rid of a boggart.”

“I couldn’t sleep knowing I had work to do.” Severus would have mocked his work ethic, but he let it lay. Clearly Lupin had had some issues finding and keeping employment, regardless of his work ethic. “Yes, I know how to eliminate a boggart. But this isn’t how I would do it. This spell is complicated, more difficult—does it even work?”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Severus flattened his tongue in his mouth. “Sometimes the information in the textbooks is outdated. Your job is to modify things. Do you want to have witches and wizards who can recite a book well, or witches and wizards who are competent at magic?”

“I want them to perform well on their OWLs and in the workforce. Is there an option for that?”

“Teach them what you know is best. Then they’ll easily pass their OWLs if they’re paying any attention—if anything, the Ministry will be impressed at their mastery of tasks that the book made too difficult or complicated. It will show them to be more effective than others at magic. Points in their favor.”

Lupin nodded. He scribbled something onto one of the notes he had added into the text. With his wand, he broke the adhesive spell from another note and vanished it, sticking the new note in its place. “You really care about them succeeding, don’t you?” Lupin asked. Severus scowled.  _ Where did that come from? _ One needed no Legilimency to know Severus detested his job most days. He owed Dumbledore—otherwise, he would have long ago worked on potions invention and patents. He would have officially modified textbooks through Ministry submission, and he would be taking showers in galleons and feeding his cats kibbles formed in gold. What about his life indicated to Lupin that he liked or cared about his job? “It matters to you, how they enter the world. You don’t just pass them and let them go. You make sure they get something from it.” 

“Of course I do. How they enter the world reflects on my performance as their teacher. I won’t have a reputation as a lazy sod because I sent a bunch of fools who can’t even brew a PepperUp potion to St. Mungo’s—or into the world at all.” Lupin looked at him with that ridiculous gentle look again, and Severus detested it. “I don’t accept laziness in my classroom, nor incompetence. The ungrateful wretches may not appreciate it now, but when they meet their future, they can’t blame me for their insolence or their idiocy.” 

Lupin chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re brilliant, Severus.” Another uncomfortable compliment Severus didn’t know how to accept. He ground his teeth. “Thank you. You don’t have to help me—in fact, if you didn’t, you’d just make yourself look better. I surely would’ve tried to teach them that nonsense out of the book that I didn’t even understand myself. I really appreciate all of your help.” 

He had a point. Severus didn’t know why he had bothered trying to help him so much. “I think I prefer being in a world where other wizards and witches know how to dispel boggarts successfully.” Yes, that made good sense.

Lupin stood and packed up his books and parchment. “I won’t encroach in more of your morning.” He stared down at his attire. “I do wish I could manage to look more presentable, though. If I transfigure these one more time, they’re going to fray right off me.”

“Too much work.” Severus waved his wand. The robes shivered into a flash of light, shimmering into sleek black satin. “Just disguise them.” 

“Bloody brilliant! Don’t know why I didn’t think of that. Charms was always my strong suit.” He shifted the disguised robes to look at his socks. “You even made them match. Attention to detail.”

“They bothered me from the moment you entered.” Severus’s eyes narrowed. “Let me fix your hair.”

Lupin’s eyes widened, surprised at the blunt, kind offering, but the fool acquiesced with a nod. Severus held his finest poker face, the one reserved only for Dumbledore and the Dark Lord himself, and he waved his wand over Lupin’s hair. It straightened out and combed over neatly, like he had meticulously gelled it. Lupin’s eyes were bright as he drew back, a smile upon his face. “Thank you, Severus. I’ll get out of your hair now—I’m sure you’ll be busy. I’ll see you at lunch, perhaps?” Severus agreed with a nod. “Have a good day, then.”

Severus showed him to the door and opened it to usher him out into the corridor behind the portrait, and off went Remus Lupin, smiling with a spring in his step and hair a sizzling shade of fuschia. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow my Tumblr @thefandomlesbian or my sideblog @theslytherinlesbian for information and updates about this story! This one is a long time in development, and I'm glad to finally be posting it.


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